


cold as ice

by nateheywood



Series: Coldwave Winter Week 2018 [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cold, Coldwave Winter Week 2018, Domestic, Fluff, Hurt Leonard Snart, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Ice Powers, Illnesses, M/M, Metahuman Leonard Snart, Metahuman Mick Rory, Metahuman!Len, Sick Character, Sickfic, and also he gets hypothermia, but he can't quite control them yet, in which len develops ice powers because of the cold gun, mick really doesn't know what to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nateheywood/pseuds/nateheywood
Summary: Mick has woken up to his husband burning with fever at least three times, and he has a go plan. Step one: tear off the mound of blankets Len likes to sleep under, no matter if he’s sweating or shivering. Step two: grab the ibuprofen and a glass of water. Step three: wake Len if he isn’t already awake, force feed him the medicine, and improvise from there. It’s foolproof.He doesn’t, however, have a plan for when he wakes up to his partner seemingly freezing to death.Or, in which Len develops ice powers, and his core temperature has trouble adjusting.





	cold as ice

**Author's Note:**

> I love sickfics, and I hope this one does justice to all of the ones I've read and loved!!
> 
> Prompts chosen: Metahumans!Coldwave AND Sick!fic / Slice of life / Domestic
> 
> Extras: #5 Frostbite & #11 Blankets

A gasp, especially when it comes from one of the coldest motherfuckers on the planet Earth, and  _ especially  _ if it happens while he’s in the bathroom, warrants immediate panic.

Mick is on the couch reading when the pipes groan, signalling that the sink has been turned on and that Len is washing his hands. Len sneezes, as heard through the paper thin walls, rather violently. Mick doesn’t blink at either of these things, completely absorbed into  _ A Tale of Two Cities. _

When Len gasps immediately after sneezing, however, Mick might as well be the Flash, he’s at the bathroom door so quickly. 

“Len,” he says, banging on the door. “You okay? Lenny?”

When Len doesn’t respond within fifteen seconds, Mick kicks in the door.

The door swings in and slams against the wall, narrowly avoiding Len at the sink, and Mick marches in, looking Len up and down for injuries.

“ _ Mick _ ,” Len hisses, hands still under the water. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“You didn’t answer,” Mick shrugs. “You okay?”

“Maybe not within five seconds,” Len snaps, and then he visibly takes a deep breath, looking back towards the sink. “I’m  _ fine _ . At least… technically.”

Mick frowns, and follows his line of sight to where the water is rushing over his hands.

Wait.

Mick stares.

The water  _ had  _ been rushing over Len’s hands. Now, it's just frozen over them, all the way up to the faucet, which is frosted over. He looks back at Len, who appears to be just as shaken. “It just happened,” Len says. “I sneezed, and suddenly it was frozen.”

“Could it be from the cold gun?” Mick asks, reaching down to feel the ice around Len’s hands. “Is it frozen to your skin?”

“Could be from the gun,” Len says, eyes narrowing in thought. “Don’t know what else it could be from.”

“Can you get yourself free?” Mick taps the thickest part of the stream, up by the faucet head. “Or do I need to get my welding tool?”

It wasn’t meant to be a threat, but Len pales like it was. “I think I can get myself free,” he mutters, and tugs a little bit. The faucet groans as if it were being pulled along. He tugs harder, and his hands do come free, although the faucet pops out a little bit with a sharp shriek of metal. He turns to look at Mick, as if to say “See?”.

“Okay,” Mick says, bemused. Len would be fixing that later on. “Now can you pull your hands apart?”

Len’s hands are still in the same position that they’d been in when he’d been washing his hands, a layer of ice looking like water running over them still covering his skin. Len makes some attempt at pulling them apart, and winces.

“I’m running them under hot water,” he says, before Mick can say anything. “Keep your flamethrowers  _ away. _ ”

Mick rolls his eyes, following his husband into the kitchen. “Wasn’t gonna suggest that,” he says. He turns on the water for Len, smirking.   


“Don’t freeze it.”

Len glares at him and sticks his hands under the water. As the ice starts to melt, he turns his head to look at Mick. His expression is thoughtful. “Wonder if I can do this on command,” he says, excitement brightening his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips. “Flash’ll have a hell of a shock when he realizes he can’t solve his problems by swiping my gun.”

-

Len practices as soon as he can free his hands, and he’s uncoordinated at best. Aiming isn’t an issue - it’s controlling when and where he freezes that’s the problem. He can’t seem to shoot the bag of flour they’d set up, and accidentally freezes the couch cushion and his beer. He also has a hard time making sure what he shoots is ice, when he can manage to actually shoot something out of his hands - half the time, he sends out a puff of snow that ends up all over the furniture. 

They’re so wrapped up in what Len can do that neither pay any mind to how often Len is sneezing and coughing, except to marvel at the snowflakes that burst out every time he does.

“I’m starving,” Mick says, after several hours of Len sending out streams of ice that look remarkably like the cold gun’s. “Let’s get some food.”

Len aims at Mick’s empty beer bottle, sighing in disappointment when cold air blasts from his palm rather than ice, sending it skittering over the coffee table. Mick shivers, wrapping his five blankets closer to himself. The temperature has been steadily lowering the more Len releases ice and snow, and Mick can hardly stand it anymore.

“What are you feeling?” Len sits next to Mick, looking suddenly tired. Mick frowns at him, but elects to ignore it. Food is priority.

“I’m not cookin’ tonight,” he says. “Chinese sounds good.”

“Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t want to make soup?” Len asks him, and he leans in closer like he wants to give Mick a kiss, before he abruptly dissolves into a coughing fit, a deep rattling thing that has Mick’s chest ache in sympathy.

“We can get you some of that weird soup you like,” Mick tells him. “It’ll make you feel better.”   


“Egg drop soup, Mick. And I feel fine.”

Mick gives him a skeptical look, but doesn’t argue. Past experience has taught him that Len would either fight through his cold, or sink to the point where he accepts Mick’s care without complaint. Trying to get him to get ahead of whatever sickness is coming is like pulling teeth.

“Your turn to order,” he says. “Since you’re feeling so great.”

“Funny,” Len says, but he gets up. It looks like it takes some effort. “Early night, I think,” Len grunts, and Mick looks at him, surprised. 

“You actually tryin’ to get ahead of the cold?” he asks. Len gives him a look.

“I don’t have a cold,” he says. “I’m just tired. What with the new powers and all.”

“Of course,” Mick says, sarcastically. “Wanna make a bet on it?”

Len, predictably, doesn’t respond as he goes into the kitchen, out of Mick’s eyeline. Mick rolls his eyes and cracks his book open again. If he has to take care of Len because he was being a stubborn ass about his own health, he’ll make Len do the dishes for a month.

-

Mick has woken up to his husband burning with fever at least three times, and he has a go plan. Step one: tear off the mound of blankets Len likes to sleep under, no matter if he’s sweating or shivering. Step two: grab the ibuprofen and a glass of water. Step three: wake Len if he isn’t already awake, force feed him the medicine, and improvise from there. It’s foolproof.

He doesn’t, however, have a plan for when he wakes up to his partner seemingly freezing to death.

Mick doesn’t know how long Len’s skin has felt like ice, but it’s got him panicking. Len is shivering intensely, somehow still asleep, and his lips are blue. His hands are unbelievably cold, especially since even _Mick_ is sweating underneath their three comforters. Any thoughts about the heater breaking fly out the window once Mick thinks to take stock of himself and the room temperature. Both are completely normal.

“Len,” Mick says softly. “ _ Len. _ ” He doesn’t want to shout or shake Len just yet - if he can avoid scaring him, he will. But, if worst comes to worst, Mick  _ will  _ startle Len awake if only to get him into a hot shower, which is all Mick can think to do.

“ _ Lenny, _ ” Mick says, one more time. Len still doesn’t open his eyes.

Mick shakes his shoulder, expecting Len to shoot out of bed, but he only furrows his eyebrows, lips peeling away from his teeth in a grimace. “Why’s it so cold?” he mutters, and Mick’s heart shoots into overdrive when he hears the slur in it.

“Dunno,” Mick says, and then he’s pulling Len up into a sitting position. Len shies away from his hands, sucking in air between his teeth and frowning harder.

“You’re so hot,” he hisses. “Stop it.”

“You’re gonna have to suck it up,” Mick grunts, and he gets up, rounding the mattress so that he’s standing by Len. He yanks him to his feet, accepting Len’s weight when he stumbles into him. “Let’s hope a hot shower doesn’t kill you.” Mick considers praying that it doesn’t - he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. All he knows is that he’s not supposed to give Len alcohol. 

Len’s eyes open once he’s standing, and although he’s shuffling along with Mick to the bathroom, he starts shivering harder without the blankets over him.

Once they’re there, Mick sets Len gently on the toilet and starts the shower, setting it to a temperature just on the warmer side of lukewarm, a little worried about shocking Len’s system or some shit. He then makes quick work of stripping himself and then Len before getting them both into the stall.

Len immediately flinches away from the stream of water. “Too hot,” he murmurs, pushing weakly at Mick in an effort to get himself away. “Mick, turn it down.”

“It’s as cool as I’m willing to have it,” Mick says, making sure to keep his voice calm and trying not to snap at his sick husband, fear and worry creating a strange cocktail in his stomach. He holds Len still, nerves fraying even more when Len doesn’t try to fight him. “Gotta get you warmed up.”

They stay under the spray for who knows how long, Mick gradually turning the water warmer and warmer until they completely run out of hot water. By that time, Len is still shivering, although his lips are their normal color and his skin is merely cool to the touch, rather than freezing.

Mick breathes out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Jesus, Len,” he mutters, turning of the water. He doesn’t think he’s been that scared in years.

Mick gets them both out, and once Len assures him that he can dry and dress himself, he returns to the bedroom, grabbing the comforters off of the bed. He throws them into the dryer to heat them up, shouts at Len to get under the remaining covers, and sets to work making hot tea while he waits for the dryer to finish.

By the time he comes back with the comforters and a mug of tea, Len is back under the blankets, shivering. He watches Mick set the mug down and then crawl into bed before he latches onto him, pressing as close as he can in order to get warm.

“My powers,” he whispers into Mick’s neck. Mick nods.

“Probably,” he says. “You need to take off your shirt.”

Len does so, and Mick copies him before pulling him close, tugging the heated blankets over them until Len is completely enveloped. Mick pulls it down so that at least their heads are sticking out, the heat already stifling. He’ll be sweating tonight, but Len needs to stay warm. Or, at least as warm as they can get him with his powers throwing him off balance.

“STAR Labs,” Mick says. “Tomorrow.”

Len immediately counters with a “No.” The persuasiveness is ruined somewhat with the position they’re currently in, all in an effort to keep him warm.

“They’re the only ones who know how to handle this shit.”

“ _ No _ .”

“You can have a say when you ain’t about to freeze to death,” Mick growls, getting angry, and he can feel a puff of air on his skin as Len lets out a sigh.

“Flash’s phone number is in my phone,” he says, reluctantly. “Call him tomorrow.”

-

After some alarm on the Flash’s part when he picks up the phone to hear Mick instead of Len, some strategizing on where to meet, and an unnerving Flash-trip to STAR Labs, they find themselves at somewhat of a loss.

After complaining loudly with Ramon, Snow finally gets to testing Len, after some pushing from the Flash and Mick snapping at them to get on with it. Ramon had snarked something about ‘being ungrateful’ and Mick had taken one step towards the kid, effectively scaring him into the tech part of the room. It’s been blissfully silent ever since.

“Your core temperature is lower than it should be,” Snow tells Len, voice clipped and expression a little hostile, for a doctor. “Your body probably just needs time to adjust to the new temperature.”

“Probably,” Mick repeats.

Snow raises her hands in a ‘what can I say?’ kind of gesture. “His body will either adapt, or it won’t,” she says bluntly. “It probably will, and the way his temperature has been fluctuating - last night it sounds like it was lower, and right now, while still low, it’s higher - suggests that it is. But that still doesn’t guarantee it. There’s nothing we can do for you without the risk of us ruining any work his body is making towards that adaption.”

“We’ve just been dealing with the problems that my speed causes as they come,” the Flash says, sounding embarrassingly earnest. “That’s what I assume most metahumans do.”

“I just recommend keeping him warm, like you have been,” Snow says to Mick. “And he’ll hopefully adjust within a few days.”

-

As soon as they get back to the apartment, Len has a coughing fit, ice shooting out from his feet and across the floor as well as covering the crook of his elbow where he’s covering his mouth. Mick helps him over the ice when he’s done, a little more than irritated with Len’s new-found powers. 

Once he’s over the ice, Len spits out two or three small icicles into his hand. “I coughed these up,” he tells Mick, like it’s no big deal. His voice is rough, probably from the icicles scraping up his throat.

“Jesus, Len,” Mick says, aghast. 

Len just sets the icicles on the counter and starts heading towards the bedroom, pace slow in order to not aggravate the headache he clearly has. Len doesn’t freak out - he compartmentalizes. It still makes Mick feel like he’s overreacting to things that actually perfectly warrant it.

Mick lets Len put himself to bed, unwilling to get into another fight about ‘coddling’ (the one they’d had this morning was unmatched, probably because it involved the Flash), and instead starts throwing together some soup. It’s the only solution he can come up with to melt the hypothetical icicles forming in Len’s throat. God. How does that even happen?

He doesn’t hear anything from Len the entire time he’s cooking, and he chalks it up to sleeping. The worst is past - Mick can’t imagine Len dipping any lower than he did last night. The only way to go is up.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so wrong in his life.

By the time he gets to the bedroom with the soup, Len is past shivering.

Mick doesn’t even realize that something’s wrong until he tries to wake Len up, and he doesn’t immediately open his eyes when Mick touches his shoulder lightly. Mick immediately places a hand on his cheek, taking stock of how pale his face is and the blue tint to his lips. He’s freezing.

He doesn’t hesitate to shake Len awake, pulse going into overdrive at how lax his body is, and Len blinks his eyes open after an alarming amount of time being shaken. He frowns at Mick, eyes unfocused and pupils strangely dilated.

“Get up,” Mick barks, panicking. Len doesn’t move, and instead just looks more confused. Mick tugs him up into a sitting position, and after a strange delay, Len wraps his hand around Mick’s bicep to keep himself steady.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbles. “‘M fine.”

Mick tries to grab Len’s hand in order to drag him all the way out of bed, and as soon as he catches it, his heart stops.

The tips of Len’s fingers are blackened with frostbite.

Mick doesn’t know what to do. His mind is screaming at him to  _ do something,  _ but all he can think to do is clasp Len’s hands between his own. His own fingers are going numb just from  _ touching  _ Len, and he can’t possibly fathom that this is normal, even for a hypothermic person.

All he can think to do is to put Len in the shower again, and he props Len up with more pillows in an effort to keep him awake so that he can go and start the water. He’s halfway to the bathroom when he remembers Snow’s face when he told her what he’d done to help warm Len up.

He changes course to the kitchen, where he throws two water bottles into the microwave, popping his head into the bedroom to make sure Len’s eyes are still open while they heat up. When it beeps, he grabs them and runs back into the room, setting them onto Len’s nightstand so that he can get his husband into a good position.

Len makes a noise when Mick gently pulls his shirt off, and lays back down as Mick proceeds to remove his own. “Not gonna kiss me first?” he slurs, even as his eyes slowly close. Mick ignores him, remembering Snow saying something about confusion being a symptom of severe hypothermia. Mick feels Len’s pulse, and it’s frighteningly slow. His breathing is also shallow.

Mick is going to kill Ramon for even dreaming up the idea of a cold gun.

Mick pats Len cheeks until he opens his eyes again, this time remembering to be gentle. “Stay awake,” he orders, panic and worry making his voice sharp. He grabs the water bottles and shoves them under Len’s armpits, ignoring the delayed flinch Len gives him. He then climbs into bed and pulls the blankets over them, pressing himself as close to Len as possible.

Len squirms uncomfortably, and Mick just wraps his arms tighter around him, praying harder than he has in decades. All he can do is wait, now, and it’s not like Mick is known for his patience. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Touching Len is like snuggling up to a snowman, he’s so goddamn cold. Mick suffers through it. Anything to help Len.  _ Anything. _

Mick is shivering by the time Len’s body decides it’s ready to bounce back to normal, and it happens slowly enough that Mick doesn’t notice until Len starts shivering again, body more cold than freezing. Mick lets him fall asleep once his shivers start to lessen, and once they’re completely gone, he falls into a fitful rest despite himself, still keeping Len close to him.

It’s hard to fight an adrenaline crash.

-

It takes three more days before Len stops ping ponging between completely normal and hypothermic, although he never falls past mild hypothermia again. Mick keeps him fed, having read somewhere that eating more helps to create metabolic heat, and makes sure he has a blanket covering him at all times. His heart stutters a little every time he coughs and snowflakes pop out of his ears - while it really should be comical, he can’t help but think that using his powers somehow causes the hypothermic episodes - and he tries to prevent the coughing as best he can.

Len just mostly sleeps, which is  _ fine,  _ because Mick is pretty sure he’ll snap if Len dares to complain about being ‘coddled’. Mick needs to do this, both because Len might die if he doesn’t, and for his own sanity.

Len is up and moving like normal on the fourth day, after a night completely free of incidents. Mick doesn’t let him practice with his powers until day six, however. Just in case.

Len is downright obnoxious by the time Mick allows him to start blasting things with ice again, and he doesn’t become any less annoying once he actually starts his target practice.

“Can’t you do that in the safe house?” Mick growls as another beer bottle is flung to the floor by a too-strong stream of ice. He’s already had to pry an icicle out of the wood of the coffee table. “I’m tryin’ to read.”

Len smirks at him playfully, waggling his fingers. The frostbite had completely faded, as if it’d never even been there. “Dodge this, and I will,” he says, right before sending a current of snow directly into Mick’s face. Len isn’t as in control of what comes out of his palms quite enough for Mick to feel comfortable with using him as target practice, but it’s too late now.

Mick tries to dodge, but Len’s too close to him to give him enough time. He flings his arms up to protect his face, squeezing his eyes shut, and waits for the cold to rush past his fingers. It never comes.

He opens his eyes to find Len staring at him, a huge grin brightening his face. He looks down to find a puddle of water at his feet. “What?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“You melted it,” Len says, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning. “You shot flames, and you melted my snow.”

Mick places his hands palms up, concentrating. Nothing happens.

“Think of fire,” Len tells him, shuffling closer. “Pretend your palms are heating up.”

Mick does so, and flames suddenly shoot up, nearly singing off his eyebrows and definitely singing the ceiling before he slams his palms together, smothering it. He stares at his hands for a beat, before looking at Len, eyes wide. He grins.

Len grins back, before his face suddenly falls. Worry can be seen in the angle of his eyebrows and the twist of his mouth. “Am I going to have to research heat exhaustion?”

“Probably,” Mick says, his own grin fading. “I’m going to kill Ramon.”

“Now, now,” Len says, and his mouth twitches back up into a smirk. He’s still worried, Mick can see it in his face, but he’s apparently decided to put it on the backburner. “He’s going to have done a lot of good for us. Now, kiss me. I want to see if we make steam.”

They do. Mick can’t wait to see how else they can make steam.

**Author's Note:**

> this was alarmingly close to being titled 'ice ice baby'. i also thought about slapping some frozen lyrics up there
> 
> hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> ALSO READ Beware_The_Ravenstag's HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL AU IT'S SO GOOD


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